Anthem of the Angels
by Shadow Rebirth
Summary: Time has no meaning, not to the Planet. Time is a human conception, a human worry. But time is all Harry has left-and something he's running out of. /The Calamity has returned, they whisper. The Calamity will Break again./ [AU, no pairings.]
1. Prologue: Falling

Title: Anthem of the Angels  
Author: Shadow Rebirth  
Rating: T/PG-13  
Warnings: Death, language, spoilers  
Chapter WC: 2,559  
Story WC: 2,559  
First Written: December 30, 2009  
Last Edited: June 27, 2010  
Posted: April 27, 2010  
Summary: Time has no meaning, not to the Planet. Time is a human conception, a human worry. But time is all Harry has left-and something he's running out of. /_The Calamity has returned, they whisper. The Calamity will Break again./_ AU, no pairings.

* * *

Anthem of the Angels

Prologue  
_Falling_

* * *

"What's your name?"

"Harry Potter."

"Age?"

"Twenty-one."

"Occupation?"

"Unemployed."

Finally the man grunted, sounding both resigned and annoyed. "Who isn't these days?" he asked rhetorically." He sighed then returned to the list he was filling out. "Place of birth?"

Harry hesitated. He had managed to hide his English accent well enough and there certainly was no way he was going to reveal it now; it would freak people. And why shouldn't it? England had been ground zero. Had he not been a wizard, there was almost no way he could have survived. As it was, "radiation poisoning" had contaminated most people of the people who had survived, according to the Muggles.

"New York," he said.

The worker paid no mind to his pause. He did not care, to be frank. Harry was just one of hundreds of thousands of refugees. He was just a number, moving through the line. As soon as this little info session was over, he would be packed into a camp with Merlin only knew how many others and then swiftly forgotten.

Harry did not mind, truth be told. He craved anonymity after all these years—reveled in it. Now that everything was said and done, he _wanted_ to get lost in the crowds. For him, this would be a vacation.

Then why wasn't he happier?

Harry knew the answer to that. Knew it so well it ached in his bones. But he did not dare dwell on it, lest he get lost to madness building with the confines of his mind, just waiting to burst free.

"Any family members or relations?"

Harry sighed.

"None."

* * *

They left him alone.

That was what Harry liked the best. No one bothered him. No one asked him questions or even spoke to him at all. They did not stare at him, did not look at him funny, and did not even glance his way. He was like a ghost. A ghost among thousands of other ghosts, as it were.

As glad as he was to be left alone, he could not really be _glad_. Not when a sea of depressed faces surrounded him. Hopelessness and despair smothered the very air of the refugee camp. It weighted limbs and buried into broken gazes. Everyone looked lost, Harry thought. Like they did not know what to do next.

And who did know? Almost every major city had been destroyed. Billions were dead—two thirds of the population, the said. The world governments were just barely hanging on, which was a miracle in the aftermath of all that chaos.

Sighing heavily, Harry watched from beneath half lidded eyes as a woman, caked with dust and grime, shushed a small infant and rocked them in her arms. Both mother and child wrapped dirty, ragged clothes, much like almost everyone else. There was nowhere to get new clothes, after all. There was not even anywhere to wash, except for what rainwater could be collected. The rest of the water they had was too precious to be wasted on personal hygiene.

Harry wrapped his own military regulation blanket tighter around himself. The frayed edges tickled his unshaven face, but he did not notice.

A balding older man had staggered over to the woman. "They were there, you know," he was saying. "They were there when it fell. When the sky fell down around us." He laughed sharply and the woman shrunk back, fear in her eyes. He did not notice as he continued to ramble. "I remember seeing them. Such pretty lights. Angels. Or devils. What's the difference between the two? Nothing! Nothing, I say!"

The woman jumped in surprise at his sudden shout and scrambled backwards. Her infant began to wail and she held it tightly to her chest while scurrying away. The disturbed older man did not seem to notice her departure.

"Everything always falls in the end," he was saying. "It's only natural. You realize that, when you get to be my age. The veil lifts and you see life for what it really is. Life? Ha!" Abruptly his voice dropped down to a whisper and even Harry had to strain to hear his next words. "I can feel their soft caresses. They're death, not life. The dead! Ha! Drifting so happily while the rest of us wander the surface of HELL!"

The man threw back his head and laughed heartily, only to abruptly cut the sound off a moment later. His gaze swiveled around to pierce Harry with a startling clarity in their depths. He scuttled closer, almost seeming to glide over the ground.

"They rose," he whispered. Harry stared impassively at him, not reacting. "They rose and swallowed the earth whole. Everyone knows what happened, even if they don't speak of it. Magic saturates every inch of the earth now. No one can escape from it."

_That_, however, did startle Harry. His eyes widened a fraction of an inch before he managed to rein his reaction in and return to his dispassionate expression. He was looking at the older man in a different light though now.

"You're a wizard." It was not a question, and they both knew it.

"Of course," the man replied with a wild grin. "Almost the entire magical population survived, you know. Our bodies are accustomed to magic. We can adapt to the influx. It's the Muggles whose bodies are failing." He laughed again suddenly and Harry had to struggle not to jump in surprise. "Radiation poisoning! As if! I hear the mice whispering. They say someone dropped a nuclear bomb on merry old England. We all know better. We know what happened. We know _they_ came. Radiation poisoning! They can't handle the magic. Too much energy for their feeble bodies. They're dying. But, but! Here's the thing—we got screwed as well!

"We won't survive either. Can't!" He giggled gleefully. "Wands don't work; too much energy in the air already. Spells backfire. _Boom_. There goes another one. Another dead witch, another missing child. And see how the mice scurry! They know something's up. They know somethin's not right. A nuclear bomb! As if! They can smell the truth. Right beyond the edges of their senses. So close...so close..."

The man fell into silence, which was far more unnerving to Harry than his ramblings had been. But...everything he had said was true. Magic now saturated every molecule of the earth. It was in everything—and everyone. The problem was, Muggles bodies were not adjusted to magic. Such a massive amount in such a short time was killing them just as quickly as the initial earthquakes, tidal waves, hurricanes, and volcano eruptions had. It would not be long before every last Muggle was dead.

Of course, that was exactly what Voldemort would have wanted. How ironic that his greatest achievement had come from his greatest mistake. Harry was just glad that he was not around to see the result of his actions.

"Is there any news?" Harry asked after a moment. If nothing else, it broke the silence.

"The changes are happening already," the man replied in a faux whisper. His eyes shifted around as though searching for nonexistent eavesdroppers. "I hear whispers, see shadows...The Muggles blame it on the 'radiation'. They say it's mutating the animals. Well that's certainly true! But it's not radiation. Ha! No, not radiation. It's the magic. Magic is real, you know. So pretty and soft. It wraps around my mind and whispers to it, muttering the secrets of the universe in a constant unintelligible stream. It has only happened since the Breaking. That's when the world changed, when magic awoke. Now their souls walk among us, in every fiber of our being, constantly whispering and muttering and moaning and it's driving me _MAD_!"

His breath was coming in short, harsh gasps now, but his rage faded as quickly as it had come and was once again replaced with a sharp intelligence. "You can hear them too, can't you?" Harry flinched and that was all the confirmation he needed. "Of course you can! Everyone with an ounce of innate magic in them can. So many of us are falling, unable to handle it. Another suicide, another child gone mad, another person broken. But we all fall in the end. It doesn't matter anyway..."

The man fell back into a sullen silence. His gaze was distant, as though his thoughts were millions of miles away. And they probably were.

Harry certainly knew what the man was talking about. He _could_ hear them too. Though they were not really voices so much as emotions and impressions. It was like the thoughts and feelings of a million people at once, all pressing down on him. It was enough to drive a man insane. Harry thought it was probably only because of the rudimentary instructions in Occulmency that he'd gotten from Snape and Dumbledore a few years ago—but Merlin, it felt like a lifetime—that he was able to ward them off. He had taken to clearing his mind every night in order to keep the madness at bay.

He had no idea what the voices were from. As the man had said, they had only been there since the world had Broken. Clearly, they were tied to magic, but...Other than that, Harry did not have the faintest clue.

And honestly, he did not care to find out.

"The Muggles will figure it out eventually," the old man was muttering when Harry turned his attention back to him. The governments already guess—some probably already know! It makes me wonder. Wonder what will happen when it all comes out..." He looked up at Harry and this time met his gaze solidly instead of looking though him. "We all have to fall eventually."

* * *

Harry was getting restless. To be fair, he had never stayed in one place as long as this before. It was probably just cabin fever—or camp fever, as it were. How long had it been anyway? How many months? Years?

He had taken to stalking around the camp. Silently passing through without really seeing any of it. The conditions were getting worse though, that much he noticed. More people were dying every day, and not just from the sicknesses that ran rampant through all the camps. But Harry was almost beyond caring now; he had already seen too much death, too much agony, to be phased by much.

But he was still growing more restless with each passing day. Paranoia was begging to seep in. What if something had happened? What if his Last Spell had not gone right? What if It had awoken?

It was not long before he could not take it anymore. So he left. Just picked up his things, walked out, then Disapparated away and went _back_. Back to where it had all started.

And where it had all ended

* * *

Everything was fine. Of course, it was; he knew it had been. But that had not stopped the inherent feeling of _wrongness_. And the Voices had not helped either. They had not stopped whispering about _deathpainloss or hoperebirthbeginning__._ They never stopped, never abated, and Harry was starting to doubt that they ever would.

Harry stared at the pile of rubble as though expecting something to rise out of it at any moment. And he half did, even though he knew that everything was fine. This was all that was left of Hogwarts. But it was so much more than that now. Now it was a tomb, and not just for those who had died in that final fight.

Voldemort had, naturally, been the start of everything. But even he had not intended for things to happen the way they had. The war against him had been so difficult, but they had been so close to defeating him. And that, more than anything else, was probably why he had done what he had. Voldemort had gotten desperate, so he had turned to magicks that even he knew almost nothing about: Summoning.

It had worked, at first. Voldemort had summoned many powerful spirits and they probably would have won the war for him. But then something went wrong. The spirits got loose and, directionless as they were, they turned to the only thing they knew: destruction. They had literally ripped the world apart, Breaking it. The very plates of the earth itself had shifted and the oceans had reformed. The world now, only a few short years later, looked nothing like it once had.

It had taken them a long, long while to stop the spirits. They did it eventually, but only by using some very powerful rituals that had bound the spirits into magical stones that had since been locked away, never to see the light of day again. By then they would found out that Voldemort was dead. Apparently, he had tried one last summon in order to undo his mistake. But this was a different kind of summon—instead of being a spirit it had been a powerful being from another dimension.

They had called it the Calamity. That was what it had been, after all. A calamity on all humankind.

They almost had not been able to stop that one. It seemed as though nothing they did harmed her. She shrugged off all of their spells as though they were nothing but static charges and seemed to be immune to enchantments. In the end, they _had not_ been able to kill her. So instead, they had sealed her away. Hogwarts would be her eternal tomb.

Of course, the Muggles knew nothing of this. The spirits, being creatures of magic, were invisible to them. They had known only death and chaos and agony and confusion. Harry almost hoped that they would never find out the truth; he did not think they would be able to take it, not after everything that had happened. It did not really matter though. Their race would not survive, after all.

Harry sighed heavily and turned his back on the ruins. Things never should have turned out this way, but they had, and there was nothing he could do about it. He accepted that, as much as he did not want to. He was a far different man than he had been just a few short years ago.

As though sensing his resignation, the Voices suddenly began to push at him more strongly, rising to a crescendo. Harry shuddered as the pressure built up inside his head, giving birth to a pounding headache. The world spun and Harry stumbled. Unable to regain his footing, he fell onto all fours, gasping for breath.

What in Merlin's name had that been? Harry to no more time to question it, however. Staring at the ground as he was, he had finally noticed a faint green glow peeking through the cracks in the stone. Even as he stared, it grew brighter and brighter until finally it was blinding him and suddenly he was falling and falling and there was nothing he could do and oh _Merlin_ what was happening?

The voices were softer now, almost comforting. They enveloped him just as the warm green light did and suddenly Harry was no longer falling, but rather floating, suspended in nothingness. _Safe,_ the Voices whispered, _Safecomforthome. Sleepreststayslumberwait. Time. Wait._

_Wait._

And he knew nothing more.

* * *

A/N: As you can see from the dates at the top of the story, this is something that I've been working on for a while. The idea and outline has been completely developed now, so all that's left is to write the story. That that note, this story is going to be relatively short—probably just over 10 or so chapters. It will be Harry-centric, although a lot of different characters will have their time in the spotlight.

I hope that all the background in this chapter was clear enough, but if not, please feel free to ask questions.

-S.R.


	2. Chapter 1: Walking Sleeper

Title: Anthem of the Angels  
Author: Shadow Rebirth  
Rating: T/PG-13  
Warnings: Death, language, spoilers  
Chapter WC: 4,432  
Story WC: 6,991  
First Written: December 30, 2009  
Last Edited: June 7, 2010  
Posted: April 28, 2010  
Summary: Time has no meaning, not to the Planet. Time is a human conception, a human worry. But time is all Harry has left-and something he's running out of. /_The Calamity has returned, they whisper. The Calamity will Break again./_ AU, no pairings.

* * *

Anthem of the Angels

Chapter 1  
_Walking Sleeper_

* * *

When Harry awoke, he was staring up at a sky full of stars. He lay on his back for Merlin only knew how long, not thinking about anything, just staring. It had been a long time since he had last seen the stars. There had been too much dust in the air following the Breaking. And after that...Well, he would rather not think about that.

Eventually Harry managed to stumble to his feet. He was still extremely disoriented, but at least his headache had finally abated. The world spun when he tried to walk, but he was not quite keen on sitting down again—not when a foot of snow covered most of the ground. Fortunately, he was standing on rock at the moment. Or rather, on pebbles. He was standing the edge of a small pool made of glowing green liquid. He had no name for the substance, even though he was intimately aware with what it was.

He knew the feel of it better the touch of the wind around him now. He could feel it pulsing, whispering, even from where he stood. He could sense how deep the pool—or perhaps spring was a more fitting term—went. Deep, deep into the earth, almost beyond his comprehension. It was a part of the earth itself. It _was_ the earth, in some sense.

Shuddering slightly, Harry turned away from the glow. The Voices were still there, but they were different now. Their presence was less of a pressure and more a...warmth, for lack of a better term. All the initial chaos was gone. Plus he was used to them now; they were a part of him. How long had it been since everything had started? He did not know.

_Time,_ the Voices whispered, __.

"I know," he muttered. "You kept me in that...energy... Waiting, you say? Waiting for what? And for how long?"

_Time. Waiting. Waiting..._

As the Voices faded into a dull murmur, Harry let out a frustrated sigh. Of course, they would not tell how much time had passed. They very rarely gave him any straightforward information. Or any information at all for that matter. All he got was bits and pieces; bare threads of knowledge that they passed along by pure happenstance. This had allowed him to gather at least a basic idea of what had happened to him.

Sighing again, Harry slowly began to trudge through the snow. The world was different, that much he already knew. Magic still saturated the land, but it had settled. It no longer electrified the air and quivered in the ground. It was a natural part of things, just as that energy-liquid and the Voices were.

Suddenly Harry froze mid-step. If the magic had settled, then it should not interfere with spell casting any longer. He quickly fumbled with his pockets, trying to remember where he'd put his wand before all of this all happened. There was no guarantee that it was still there or that it would even work after all this time, but the least he could do was try. With a small sound of triumph, Harry finally pulled his wand from his boot.

Looking it over, Harry could see no new scratches or nicks. It looked exactly as it had the last time he had used it. Lifting it up, Harry murmured a quick heating charm. The effects were instantaneous and Harry smiled both at the warmth now surrounding and the knowledge that he had all of his abilities back.

As Harry continued his trek, he soon found himself growing tenser and tenser. He kept hearing rustling in the underbrush and seeing shadows out of the corners of his eyes. Several times, he even came across strange animal tracks—but never any animals. They were probably skittish, he thought, but that did not make him any less nervous. One of those tracks had been almost two feet wide. Just how big was the creature that had made them?

_South_, the Voices whispered as he continued to walk. He listened to them, welcoming any distraction from his building anxiety. As it was, his hand gripped his wand tightly enough to leave a lasting impression on his palm and turn his knuckles white. His stride was carefully measured, his muscles pulled taut, and his gaze darted across the tree line, ready to react at the first direct sign of movement.

He did not like this. He did not like not knowing, not understanding. It was really starting to hit him, now that he was fully awake: he was stranded in a strange new world. He did not know what was here, did not know what the land was like, did not know what the people were like—if there even were any more people, that was. Didn't know a damned thing. If the world had changed so much in the year since the Breaking, then what was it like now, after what could very possibly be a thousand years had passed?

The world around him now was proof enough of that. Scotland rarely ever got _this_ cold, even in the dead of winter. Admittedly, the plates had shifted during the Breaking, so he could be on the North Pole now for all he knew. No one had had the chance to remap the world in all that chaos.

With the Voices directing him, it was not long before Harry finally saw a small town in the distance. His shoulders slumped slightly as some of the anxiety that had been weighing him down finally lifted. At the very least, this confirmed that there _were_ people still inhabiting the earth, which was more of a relief than he was willing to admit.

But...He was still alone. He still knew nothing of this world, its customs, its language, or its civilizations. He had no way of making money or surviving, no one to lean on, no one to go back to. He was well and truly stranded

The worst part, he thought, was knowing that he would never been able to go back home.

But then, his home had been destroyed long ago; long before the Voices took over. Part of it had been destroyed when his godfather had died, then Dumbledore, then his friends. Voldemort had started it and the Calamity had ended it. At least here _everything_ was new and unknown. It might have been worse to be back in that mockery of his world, where shadows of what his life had once been still existed. Here, there were no reminders. He would never find a broken chess piece and think of Ron or look at a torn book and hear Hermione's voice.

And for the first time, the Voices were a comfort. He supposed he was never alone. Not anymore.

The snow crunched under his feet as he approached the town. Harry flinched at the sound, finding it abnormally loud. He hesitated again, all of his fears and doubts once again resurfacing. He gripped his wand tighter and—

And suddenly realized that all of the answers were literally within his grasp. Almost laughing aloud at his oversight—_it had been too long since he had used magic, even if it had only been a second in his mind_—Harry lifted his wand and swiftly cast a disillusionment charm on himself. While having numerous ways of going wrong, at least this way he would have information on earth's new society before jumping into it. Plus, he could not exactly just waltz into the town.

"_Hello, I've been frozen in time for an unknown number of centuries, but the voices in my head woke me up and told me to come here. You wouldn't happen to have a cup of tea would you? I'm a bit parched."_

Oh yes, he could just see how well _that_ would turn out.

Now mostly invisible to naked eye, Harry crept into the small snow covered town. The largest building was naturally the one that captured his attention first. And it was a good thing too since he quickly noticed the sign hanging above its door with _Inn_ mercifully written in English. Maybe, he thought, hardly daring to breathe, maybe the world was not quite as different as he had originally feared.

There was just one problem: How could Harry get inside the inn without attracting attention? He frowned at door while running through a list of spells in his head, trying to determine what he could use. A Muggle repelling spell came to mind, but he did not know if it would work on the people here. After all, if what the wizards of his time had predicted was true, everyone here should be descended from witches and wizards and quite possibly even be magical themselves.

Before Harry's thought process could go any farther, he became aware of the dull murmur of voices approaching from behind. Glancing back, he immediately became both relieved and horrified. Relieved because there was a group of eight or so people heading straight for the inn and he could use them to get inside. Horrified because he had completely forgotten that, while disillusioned, he still left tracks in the snow that clearly led from outside the small village to his current location. Harry briefly considered running, but knew instantly that that was a bad idea that would likely only attract attention to himself. So instead, he waited anxiously for the group to pass him.

They never even glanced his way. It was all Harry could do not to sigh with relief. Instead, he darted into inn right behind them, just before the door could close.

Even with his warming charm still on, Harry could tell that the inn was far warmer than the outside. He also immediately noticed that they had electricity, which scratched out one his ideas about a medieval society. Still, everything seemed unfamiliar. The clothes were different, the technology was different, the furniture was different—even the _people_ seemed different to him.

It hit Harry now, more than even before, that he was not going to be able to survive without more information about this world. The Voices probably were not going to help too much in that regard; they had already fallen back into a dull murmuring, although they rose up, chanting _south,_ occasionally. As such, the only option left to Harry was to get more information out of one of the people here, regardless of whether they wanted to help or not, or were even aware of it.

Turning his attention to the group he had followed inside, Harry quickly began to sort them into three categories. The first were two soldiers who had rifles—or at least he assumed they were rifles—and wore armor. They had strange helmets covering their faces that looked like they had three lenses. Next, were two more soldiers—although Harry was more inclined to call them warriors since they had swords instead of rifles and wore barely any armor. The Voices rose up as soon as Harry glanced at them and he could almost _feel_ the Voices wrapping around them, connecting them to the earth. He shivered slightly and decided to avoid them until he knew more; even his own instincts were screaming that they were dangerous.

The last category consisted of five men. They were all unarmed, at least as far as Harry could tell. They also all wore what looked like white lab coats—though for all he knew, that could just be the latest fashion here. In any case, they definitely did not look too dangerous and he swiftly singled out the weakest looking of them: a rather mousey looking middle-aged man.

As the large group dispersed and began to head back to their rooms, Harry quickly followed his "target". He had to move carefully to avoid accidentally touch anyone, but the noise of the lobby covered any sounds he might make. The man was easy to follow, fortunately, and it did not take Harry much effort to slip into his room behind him.

While the man busied himself with putting away his pack, Harry took the time to cast a quick silencing spell on the room. The man jumped in surprise at the sound of his voice and spun around to face the door.

"W-who's there?" he demanded. The quaver in his voice and his darting eyes gave away his fear.

He was jumpy, Harry thought, amused. He was also a bit startled at how easily he found himself stalking someone like this. Maybe the Voices or the passage of time had done something to him. Or maybe it was just the desperation and complete _alone_-ness of his current situation that drove him to a new mindset. But in the end, it hardly mattered either way.

Lifting his wand, Harry took a deep breath, and then intoned, "Imperio."

The effect of the spell was instantaneous. The man relaxed completely and his gaze went blank as he entered a trance-like state. Harry smiled grimly as his work, although it was far from the first time he had had to perform it during the war.

"You will answer all of my questions honestly and with as much detail as you are able to give," Harry instructed. He had no time to dally with thoughts of a past long gone. "What is your name?"

"Oliver Jurek." His tone was just as flat as his expression.

"What town are we in?"

"Icicle Inn."

Harry frowned. "Town," he repeated. "What _town_?"

"Icicle Inn."

His frown deepened further. It was definitely strange to give a town such a name, but someone under the Imperius Curse had to do what they were told, so this man, Oliver, could not lie to him. Plus, he reminded himself, things here were bound to be different than in his time, including how they named towns.

"What continent are we on?" Harry asked. Oliver stayed silent, staring blankly ahead. Harry frowned again, and then tried another route. "Do continents have names?"

"No."

Strange. And definitely different from his time. Frowning again, Harry continued with his little inquisition. He started with the geography of the world—and was quite pleased to find out that Oliver had a map—and then continued on to the major cities, governments, technology, transportation, weaponry, and so on. By the time he had finished several hours had passed and he had figured out the general layout of the world and its culture.

He was not entirely sure what to think of it.

It was certainly different. And yet not. It was alien enough that he would have been left floundering, confused, had he not sought out information like this, but so much of it was still familiar.

The world had been completely rearranged, as he had already known. He could vaguely pick out which continent was which from the map Oliver had given him, but they were mere shadows of their former appearance. The cities were a lot more spread out too. And there were so few of them! It was as though the wilderness had retaken the land.

Oliver had mentioned monsters as well. Vicious creatures stalked every square inch of uninhabited land and attacked humans, making both travel and communication hazardous. It was only because of this time's technology—advanced well beyond what the Muggles had had, from what he understood—that humans were able to survive at all. This knowledge also made it even odder that nothing had attacked Harry on the way to Icicle Inn. He knew that the shadows he had seen from the corners of his eyes had been monsters, but he still could not understand what had held them at bay.

Harry stared mutely at Oliver for a minute as his thoughts ran wildly in different directions. The man was a scientist, he had learned, but even he had not known why the monsters would stay back. Harry wondered if this "Shinra Electric Company" that he worked for—which was apparently also the major government in the world, to his astonishment—could possibly provide the answers he was looking for.

"What were you doing out here anyway?" Harry asked aloud.

"There have been strange mako readings coming from the northern mako reactor," Oliver replied blankly. "My colleagues and I, along with several SOLDIER escorts, were sent to go take a look."

Harry frowned again. "Mako..." he muttered. The energy that ran this world. It also seemed to be that strange green energy-liquid, from Oliver's descriptions. The very thought that humans used it—the earth, the Voices—to power their technology was a bit difficult for Harry to wrap his head around.

Glancing up again, Harry raised his voice back up to a more normal level. "Did you find anything?"

"No. There was nothing out of place and nothing to explain the anomaly. The energy reading spiked shortly after we arrived and then fell back down to normal levels."

The way the energy spike corresponded with Harry's awakening was too clear to be coincidence. He said nothing however, choosing instead to mull over the new information.

"Tomorrow..." Harry said eventually. "Tomorrow I'll be heading south with you—"

_SouthsouthsouthsouthSOUTH—!_ The Voices escalated in both volume and intensity, causing Harry to wince. "Shut up!" he hissed sharply. Thankfully, they abated again, though their chant never stopped. Glaring at the far wall, Harry waited until he was sure they would not return before turning his attention back onto Oliver.

"I will join you when you return to this, 'Costa Del Sol' city that you've mentioned. I'll go ahead of you to the ship and hide. You will make no mention of me to anyone, nor will you say _anything_ about what has happened here. You will act completely normal, just like you always do." He paused for a moment, trying to think of anything he had forgotten to add. "Also...give me all of your contact information. Phone number, address, email—everything. When you get back to Midgar, you will continue to live your life as normal, waiting for me to contact you again."

It would be good to have someone to turn to, Harry thought. Even if that person was under the Imperius Curse. Some part of him felt sad and disgusted that he would be keeping another human being under his control for so long, but another, larger part of him felt like he had no choice. Not in his present situation.

Harry heaved a long, weighted sigh, and then relaxed in a chair near the window while instructing Oliver to go to bed. He had a feeling it was going to be a long, sleepless night.

* * *

Harry was not quite sure what to make of Costa del Sol. It was...familiar. Disturbingly so. Not the city itself, but just the general layout and atmosphere. It was like one of the beach resort towns that he had seen on Muggle commercials when he had been younger. The people there all looked cheerful and excited. They happily ran along the beach in bikinis and swimming trunks, playing volleyball, surfing, and other normal activities. Activities from _his_ time, a thousand years ago.

Somehow, the familiarity only made him feel even more out of place.

Harry stood stoically against a wall near the edge of the beach, staring out at the ocean. He was visible again and had gotten some new clothes from Oliver, in order to fit in better. Of course, he still did not _feel_ like he was fitting in, but so far no one had questioned his presence.

Only a few minutes later, Harry turned away from the beach, feeling a bit sick. Homesick, actually, though he would never admit it, even to himself. He instead took to strolling down the cobbled streets and taking in the sights, the culture, and the feeling of being amongst happy, carefree people again. The name was Spanish, he mused to himself. It was odd, considering the lack of Spanish language and culture. Perhaps it was some surviving remnant of the Breaking?

Eventually Harry meandered into a bar on the main street of the city. He claimed a small table in a dim corner and ordered a drink. He could see the door from where he was and had easy access to the second door that led to an alleyway outside the bar. Naturally, none of this was coincidence; old habits die hard.

There was another lone man sitting nearby, Harry noticed. He captured the young wizard's attention because he stood out from the rest of the patrons. It was not just his state of dress—an immaculate black suit, to be particular—nor his bald head and short goatee, nor the half a dozen earrings in one of his ears, nor even the fact that he was wearing a dark pair of sunglasses while indoors. There was just something different about him. It was in the way he carried himself, the way he studied the patrons of the bar without really seeming to be paying attention. He was dangerous—that much Harry definitely knew.

But he also made Harry curious. What was someone like him doing in a bar like this?

It was not until Harry heard the scraping of wood against the stone floor that he realized that the man had pushed his chair back as he stood up and was now walking over to his table. Harry tensed immediately, his eyes narrowing in alarm.

"You were staring."

Harry stared, not quite sure how to reply to that, especially since it was true. So instead, he reacted by instinct and quirked a small smile at the man. "You were interesting."

"Oh?" He sat down without bothering to ask for permission and folded his hands before him. Harry had to resist the urge to tense further; even while sitting relaxed, the man still looked like he was ready to strike out at any moment.

After a brief pause in which he desperately cast around for something to say, Harry continued with a curious question. "What's someone like you doing here?"

"Someone like me?"

Did he really have to question everything Harry said? "Yes."

For several minutes, Harry and the bald young man stared at each other with nothing but silence passing between them. Or at least Harry assumed the man was staring as well; it was difficult to discern where his eyes were behind those dark sunglasses. Finally, the man let out what _might_ have been a soft chuckle and relaxed back in his seat.

"Rude."

"Excuse me? You were staring as well—"

"My name is Rude."

Oh. Well that made more sense. Even if it was a strange name.

"...Harry."

"Strange name."

Again, Harry found himself staring at the man, at a complete loss for words. "...Yeah," he said finally. "I guess you'd think that. It's probably not a very common name around here.

"Hnn. So where are you from then, if not around here?"

"Somewhere over the rainbow." While Rude just stared at him, Harry could not help but chuckle lightly as his own joke. Sad, perhaps, but he had had little to laugh at recently. "How about you?"

Rude stayed silent and continued to stare at him. Harry found himself wanted to shift uncomfortably in his seat, but he valiantly resisted the urge and stubbornly stared back at those damn sunglasses.

"What do you mean by 'someone like me'?"

The abrupt return to their earlier topic briefly started Harry. He hesitated again, and then finally decided that the truth was the only route open to him. "A fighter," Harry said grudgingly.

"And what exactly makes you think I'm a fighter?"

Really, what was it with this man and his questions? "The gun in your waistband for one. And the three knives stashed in your jacket."

Rude's lips thinned momentarily and Harry realized that it was probably the closest thing to an expression of surprise that he would get out of the man. "You are familiar with recognizing hidden weapons," Rude commented. It was not a question.

Harry shrugged. "It's easy, with experience. And the fact that you hold yourself like a fighter, ready to act at any time, tipped me off to look for the weapons." Plus wands were a lot more difficult to spot than bulky weapons, so the exercise was almost easy in comparison.

Rude made a small sound of agreement in the back of his throat, but otherwise did not reply. Harry found himself caught up in a staring contest with Rude once again. It took a minute, but soon the corner of Rude's mouth quirked up into the beginnings of a smile.

"You're...interesting," he said finally, mimicking Harry's earlier words.

Harry almost laughed in reply. He would have, had he not see the faint, almost unnoticeable turn of Rude's head as he glanced slightly to the side, looking behind Harry. Instantly Harry felt the shift of the air behind him and realized that he had been so focused on Rude that he had forgotten to pay attention to his surroundings. He ducked down, just missing a blow, and rolled out his seat as what looked like a metal rod passed through where his head had once been.

There were screams of surprise from the other patrons in the background, but Harry paid them no mind. Years of practice dodging spells had left him with expertly honed reflexes that already had him dodging a second blow from his new enemy. This time he could see that the metal rod was crackling with electricity. It reminded him of the nightstick with a built-in taser that he had been hit by once in the States, when he had accidently gotten caught up in a post-Breaking riot. He had no desire to repeat the experience again.

Harry rolled to the side, underneath his opponents reach, and tried to make a dash for the back door while simultaneously trying to concentrate so that he could Apparate away, consequences be damned. He barely got a few feet before there was suddenly a foot digging into the small of his back, sending him crashing into the wall. His hands instinctively caught himself against the smooth wood, but by then the nightstick had already collided with the back of his neck, sending a painful jolt of electricity through his body. His all muscles seized at once and as he slid to the ground and his vision darkened, all he caught from the corner of his eye was a switch of shockingly red hair and a wild grin.

* * *

A/N: Before I get any questions about it, the events in the end of this chapter _did_ have a reason for why they played out as they did. You'll find out when Harry does (in the next chapter).

Thanks for your responses to the last chapter!

—S.R.


	3. Chapter 2: Captive Freedom

Title: Anthem of the Angels  
Author: Shadow Rebirth  
Rating: T/PG-13  
Warnings: Death, language, spoilers  
Chapter WC: 5,726  
Story WC: 12,717  
First Written: January 3, 2010  
Last Edited: June 7, 2010  
Posted: June 7, 2010  
Summary: Time has no meaning, not to the Planet. Time is a human conception, a human worry. But time is all Harry has left—and something he's running out of. /_The Calamity has returned, they whisper. The Calamity will Break again./_ AU, no pairings.

* * *

Anthem of the Angels

Chapter 2  
_Captive Freedom_

* * *

"You are sure about this?"

Rude nodded silently. "He had all the qualities we look for," he said. "And he had patience in spades. He was able to correctly locate and identify three out of the four weapons that I had on me at the time. And Reno can testify to his reflexes."

The redhead scoffed and pushed away from the wall that he had been leaning again. "He wasn't _that_ impressive—"

"Is it not true that he avoided your attack despite neither seeing nor sensing you?" Tseng questioned calmly. He flipped through a couple papers on his desk, absently searching for something. "Or are you saying that your own abilities have slipped?"

Reno scowled harshly and looked away, not bothering to reply.

"My statement still stands," Rude stated quietly.

Tseng nodded. "I do agree that he sounds intriguing. Though I am curious as to what he was doing in Icicle Inn; it is not exactly a tourist location. I would suggest that he lived there, but I have already done a cursory search of the population registered in our databases and no one even remotely matching his description has come up. At the moment he is an unknown variable."

Turning his back on his fellow Turks, Reno continued to scowl. He did not like this whole situation. There was something fishy about it; his instincts were practically screaming it. What if the was sent by an anti-Shinra faction to infiltrate the corporation? He could even be a Wutanese spy. Actually that sounded quite likely; they had the Wutanese backed up against a wall so they undoubtedly were starting to get desperate. Opening his mouth, Reno turned back around to tell Tseng as much, but the older man silenced him with a single glance.

"No, I do not believe that he is an infiltrator, Reno."

"Oi! How the hell did you know I was gonna—?"

"Your thought process is rather easy to follow," Tseng replied smoothly. "And as paranoid as you are—"

"I ain't _paranoid_! And even if I was, it wouldn't be a bad thing, yo."

"—That is the logical conclusion to come to," Tseng finished without blinking at Reno's interruption. The redhead huffed. "However, the possibility of him having found out that you and Rude would be in Costa del Sol on that particular day is extremely low. And even if he had somehow found out, the chance that you two would just happen to meet him, know about him, and take him into custody is even lower. You know perfectly well that coincidences like this aren't planned."

"Unless the bastard is just that good."

"Didn't you just finish saying that he wasn't?" Rude interjected. He looked impassive, but Reno could all but feel the amusement rolling off of him.

"That's not the damn point—!" Reno growled, frustrated.

He could not understand why they could not see it. To him it was as clear as day. There was something _wrong _with that man, and now they wanted to invite him to Shinra with open arms! It sent a shiver down his spine just thinking about it.

Tseng finally looked up and met Reno's gaze. "Are you going to be a problem?" he asked serenely.

Reno hesitated, and then looked away. "Of course not," he scoffed. "I'm the best damn Turk you have, yo. You won't hear a fuckin' peep out of me."

"Good."

The phone on Tseng's desk rang. A single look sent Reno and Rude from the room, though Reno did so grudgingly. Tseng frowned, hoping that he woudn't prove to be a problem. The redhead was a good Turk, both despite and because of his attitude; he didn't want to remove him just yet.

His slim hand rested on the phone for a moment before picking it up. "Yes?"

"_Tseng_."

His back straightened, even though the other man couldn't see him. "Sir. Everything is proceeding as expected. I'll be interrogating the man as soon as he awakes."

"_Good. I want an explanation as soon as possible. You saw the footage... I want an explanation._"

"I do as well," Tseng instantly agreed. "But sir, you do realize that this will take some time? We are working with a bomb here; something entirely new."

"_Of course."_ A derisive snort followed the statement. "_I of all people am aware. Do whatever is necessary. But know that he will be your responsibility._" There was a pause. "_Oh, and Tseng?_"

"Yes sir?"

"_Always keep our goal in mind._"

"...Yes, sir."

* * *

When Harry awoke, he found him lying on a small cot with a hard pillow beneath his head. All of his muscles ached and as he sat up with a groan, a headache began to pulse in the back of his head. Unfortunately, he had more important things to think about than whether he still had a headache reliever potion in his pocket. Such as where his wand was and why he was in a cell.

No sooner had Harry stood than the door open and a broad shouldered man stepped into the room. He was wearing the uniform he had seen on the soldiers in Icicle Inn, minus the helmet. His face was impassive however, so it hardly made a difference.

"Where am I?" Harry immediately demanded.

"Follow me."

Harry did not budge. "Why have I been imprisoned? I haven't done anything. And where are my things?"

"Now," the man said shortly. He lifted his gun threateningly, to further make his point.

Annoyance coursed through Harry. His glared at the man, wishing that he had his wand so that he could take him down and get out. But there was little he could do now. Certainly, he could still Apparate, but he did not want to leave without knowing where his wand was. Left with no choice, Harry dropped his gaze and walked out of the cell.

The solider took him down a long hallway that looked more as if it belonged in an office building than a prison. He walked behind Harry and kept the barrel of his rifle pressed into Harry's back the whole way. Finally, he led him into a detaining room with cement walls. Harry was roughly pushed into one of the two seats at the sole table in the room and his wrists were manacled to the arms. The soldier then left without glancing back.

A tall man stepped forward from the far wall and stepped towards the table. As Harry's gaze swiveled around to him, he saw that Rude and lanky man with spiky red hair were also standing in the room.

Harry could not stop the shark jolt of betrayal that shot through him. Rude may have done nothing more than speak to him in a bar, but to know that he was a part of this situation still stung deeply. Harry's hands curled into fists and glared at the metal table before him, attempting to reign in his building rage. Losing his temper here would do him no good, especially since he did not yet know why he was being detained.

The ceiling lights flickered.

The tall man glanced up at them with a frown, and then quickly dismissed the phenomenon. Harry could see now that he looked Asian; Chinese, perhaps. He was wearing a deceptively kind smile. Harry had seen its exact copy on Lucius Malfoy once and he felt immediate dislike for the man.

"I apologize for the roughness of Lieutenant Sean," the man said breezily, "And I hope your accommodations were comfortable enough."

"They'd be a bit more comfortable if I knew why I was here," Harry replied calmly.

"Ah, yes. We will get to that in a moment. But first, might we know your name?"

The desire to give them a false name was quite strong. But since no one knew who he was any longer, there was little reason for him to lie, beyond his own amusement.

"Harry."

"No surname?"

"No... Just Harry. And you are?"

Amusement flashed across the man's face, but his eyes showed a sudden sharp wariness. "Tseng. Of the Turks."

Harry's eyes widened in shock. Turks. He knew that name—he had heard it from Oliver, that mousy scientist, only a few days ago. They were an elite group who worked for Shinra, directly under the president's order. Oliver had said that they did everything from promoting SOLDIERs to assassinations. Either way, meeting them was definitely not a good thing.

"Pleasure to meet you," Harry said dryly. He was doing his best to cover up his surprise, but he doubted that Tseng had missed his reaction. "Now why have I been arrested? I haven't done anything."

Tseng chuckled lightly. "Being a stowaway on a Shinra vessel is crime," he said pointedly. "And please do not bother attempting to deny it; we have you on camera."

This time Harry's surprise was evident. He had almost completely forgotten about the ship he had taken from Icicle Inn to Costa del Sol. He had never suspected that there might be cameras on the ship. But then, he was not used to Muggle technology at all, so his oversight, while frustrating, was not very surprising. However, Tseng's explanation did not clarify why they were treating him like a hardened criminal. When he mentioned as much, Tseng simply nodded.

"Indeed, we would normally leave something like this to the Shinra infantry. The only reason Rude and Reno took care of your arrest—" Harry snorted at the term used for the assault, but Tseng just ignored him, "—was because they happened to already be there at the time. I must say that I am quite glad they were however."

"What do you want with me?"

"It's quite simple, really," Tseng replied smoothly. "I just want to know who you are and where you're from. Tell me that, and I'll let you go."

Harry repressed a growl from rising in the back of his throat. The lights began to flicker again, this time more violently. Tseng looked slightly alarmed, but he clearly did not connect the event to Harry, despite his frown.

"Why do you want to know?" Harry demanded. He was struggling to get his temper under control, but it was not working too well. He had always hated when people prosecuted him, especially when he was not in the wrong. Sure, he _had_ broken their laws by sneaking aboard the ship, but he had hardly had a choice, not with the Voices nudging him as they had been.

Suddenly Harry realized that the Voices had not been bothering him since he had woken up. Of course, they were still there, but they had become quiet background noise, rising and falling agitatedly but never quite projecting themselves onto Harry. It was a bit disturbing after being used to them for so long.

"You are a curious individual," Tseng answered, drawing Harry's attention back to him. "You have an odd accent that I have never heard before. That brings me to assume that you are from some small backwater town—but if that is true, how did you managed to become an accomplished fighter?"

Harry was taken aback by Tseng's words. He stared uncomprehendingly up at the tall man for a moment, taking note of the two guns on his person and wondering if he had ever used them before. Silly question—of course he had. Harry may not have known much about this strange future yet, but Oliver had been quite clear about the abilities of Turks and SOLDIERs.

_Mako,_ the Voices whispered... _. _

Wutai. Harry remembered that name. Shinra was currently at war with the country. Was this man a Wutian? Or perhaps it was Wutanese; Wutai could very well be the remnants of China.

"Wutai..." The name slipped from Harry's mouth unbidden. Tseng's eyes narrowed, but he did not otherwise react, still waiting for Harry's reply.

_—_

Harry hissed in pain as the sudden rage from the Voices gave him a pounding headache. "Leviathan?" he muttered to himself. He was not familiar with the word.

Tseng's eyes narrowed further. "I hardly doubt that invoking my gods will help you," he commented, none of his displeasure showing. "Unless...they're your gods as well?"

Though he looked back up at him, Harry did not really see him. "Buried virus..." That sounded uncomfortably familiar. "Intruder?"

_Releasereleaserelease,_ the Voices began to chat. Suddenly they fell away for a moment, but continuing in a less forceful manner. _TsengWutaiLeviathan._

The words certainly did nothing to lessen Harry's confusion. He could not understand what the Voices were trying to tell him—if anything at all.

"...I'm not a fighter," he said instead. He was not sure whether he was speaking to Tseng or himself. "I'm a survivor. Nothing more, nothing less." Tseng leaned away, silently considering Harry's words and countenance. Before he could reply however, Harry leaned back in his seat and sighed. "I tire of your games. I have no reason to tell you anything about myself. I admit to breaking your law and will submit to your sentencing, but you do not need to know anything about me for that."

Tseng frowned at the Harry's abrupt switch in attitude. "Not a fighter indeed. I expected you to try to stand up for yourself."

Tilting back his head, Harry released a short, humorless laugh. "Do not misunderstand me, Tseng," he said. "I am not _giving in_ to you. I have never been very good giving in; I was once told that I never know when to quit."

"Oh? By who?"

Harry quirked a smile. "By a friend now long dead."

"Speaking of death in such a way at your age?" Tseng mused. "Few people who are not fighters have such a mentality."

"Just because I'm not a fighter doesn't mean I'm not familiar with death," was Harry's reply. "As I said, I'm a survivor. I sleep among the dead."

"Well ain't that ominous," the red haired man in the corner of the room commented. Tseng glanced sharply at him, but he just shrugged. "What? It was. And damn dramatic too. And 'sides, this is gettin' boring. It's just talk, talk, talk and no action. Haven't ya learned enough yet, yo?"

"That is quite enough, Reno," Tseng said sharply. "However..." He turned back to Harry and studied him intently for a moment. "I do believe you have lived up to my expectations. You perform well under stress and have a sharp tongue. Added to your other various skills...Well, I'm willing to make you a deal."

"Oh?" Harry had to admit that his curiosity had been piqued. What sort of a deal involved him performing under stress?

"I would like to offer you a position in Shinra, in the Turk department. In exchange, you will be pardoned."

Harry stared incredulously at Tseng, hardly believing what he was hearing. "I broke one of your laws, and refused to cooperate with your questioning, and you want to _hire_ me?"

"It is quite the rare occurrence that we come across someone who meets all the qualities that we look for in a Turk," Tseng replied, nonplussed by Harry's reaction. "And most Turks come from questionable backgrounds. We actually prefer not to know too much about their backgrounds—or allow them to get involved in them, for that matter—as it is a separate life from the one we take up as Turks. But of course, do not mistake the offer for blind trust. We do not trust you at all. But that does not mean we will not use you."

This was a strange world, Harry thought dazedly. Were these people stupidly overconfident? Or was it possible that he was underestimating them?

Regardless, it was an interesting offer. He had never expected to find work so quickly, let alone with a job like this. But the question was...could he do it? He only knew a little about what the Turks did, but most of what he had heard was not good. Harry did not know if he _wanted_ to accept the job. However, he also was not sure that he had a choice. At least not while they had his wand, and there was no way he was leaving without it.

Of course, once he did have his wand that was another matter entirely. Hmm, that was a thought. There was no reason for him to stay here after he got it back, so why not accept their offer for now? They had no way of knowing that he did not intend to live up to the agreement.

Harry sat up straighter in his seat and squarely met Tseng's eyes. "I will accept under one condition: I want my things back—the things you took from me when you kidnapped me."

"Arrested," Tseng corrected offhand. "And of course they will be returned. We can take you to them as soon as you sign your contract."

Harry's gaze narrowed. "What type of contract?"

"Just the usual employment contract. Of course, there are a few extra security clauses in it and you will be giving up your rights to us. You will understand better when you read it yourself.

Relaxing slightly, Harry nodded. For a moment, he had been afraid that he would have to sign a blood contract or something similar. However, of course, these people tended to use technology over magic. And the magic that they could perform—and they could _all _perform magic on some level or another according to Oliver, which furthered Harry's belief that they were descended from wizards—was very different from his, from what he'd seen so far.

"I accept then."

Tseng's deceptively pleasant smile was not very reassuring.

* * *

The hall looked sterile. It seemed almost like any other office hallway...And yet not. The walls were too clean, the tile too white, and the lights too bright. Everything was so _sterile_. And quiet too. Footsteps echoed off the walls, announcing a person's presence long before they turned a corner.

Harry was used to dust. He was used to dust and mold and broken windows. He was used to tattered clothing caked in mud and swallow faces buried in grime. He was used to muffled whispers and muted cries.

He was not used to this opulence and cleanliness. And he certainly was not used to all the advanced technology. The wizarding world had not had it for obvious reasons and the Muggle world had not been this advanced before the Breaking. After the Breaking...Well, it had not exactly been a priority.

Tseng swiped a keycard again and Harry stared as the door slid open. It was probably going to take him a while to get used to that. Tseng had already given him his own keycard, following the signing of Harry's contract, but also warned him that it was restricted and only opened a few particular doors. Harry could not care less. It was not like he would be staying long anyway; as soon as he got his things back, he was Apparating back to Costa del Sol and then hightailing it out of the area.

He only hoped that he _would_ be able to Apparate away. It had been quite the shock when Tseng told him that he was no longer in Costa del Sol, but rather in Midgar, on an entirely different continent. It annoyed him to no end that they had kept him sedated for several days like some _animal_ while transporting him. And he was supposed to _work_ with these bastards? There was no way in hell.

Harry stared at Tseng's back as they continued to make their way through the apparently large building. Of all of them, Tseng was the one he trusted the least. And that was really saying something, considering how Rude had betrayed him. But Tseng...There was just something about him that bothered Harry, and not just because of what the Voices had been saying. His smile was too fake, his countenance too calm. He was always masking his emotions, and that bothered Harry.

People only used masks when they had something to hide.

Abruptly Tseng stopped. Tearing his gaze away from the tall man, Harry immediately realized why: there were two other men standing in the hall before them. They halted their discussion as soon as they saw Harry and Tseng. The first man had an expression that vaguely bordered on curiosity, but the second merely looked annoyed.

"General Sephiroth, Lieutenant General Genesis," Tseng greeted with a slight nod of his head.

The man with long silver hair responded with a similar nod. "Tseng. And a new Turk, I presume?"

"Sharp as usual, General," Tseng chuckled. "Yes, this is Harry, he—"

The rest of Tseng's words were completely lost on Harry. The moment his gaze had connected with Sephiroth, the Voices had drowned out everything else. They rose up in such a earsplitting cacophony of fear and rage and hatred and—

_—!_

It was all Harry could do not to fall to his knees, gripping his head. As it was, he clenched his jaw tightly enough to cause his teeth to grind loudly. He struggled to push the Voices back, but all he succeeded in doing was make his growing headache worsen tenfold.

"Harry?" Tseng said suddenly. Harry belatedly realized that all three of the men were staring at him. "Are you alright?"

"He looks like he's burning up," Sephiroth commented with a frown.

Frowning as well, Tseng reached forward and brushed a hand against Harry's forehead. When his skin touched Harry's however, he instantly drew back, hissing in pain. He stared at his hand for a moment, where a blister was beginning to form.

"What the—?" the other man, Genesis, exclaimed.

"Harry?" Tseng repeated, his expression nearly verging on concerned.

"I'm fine," Harry managed to hiss. "It's just a headache."

Sephiroth studied Harry's pained expression for a moment longer before scoffing slightly. He raised one of this hands and a jewel imbedded on the bracer on his wrist began to glow. Immediately the Voices began to panic again, screaming at Harry to move, but their warning only immobilized him further.

"_Cura_," Sephiroth intoned. The jewel glowed brighter for a brief instant and Harry felt a cool sensation wash over him. To his infinite relief, the Voices finally faded back into a dull murmur in the back of his mind.

Harry stood still for a moment, shivering, then glanced up at Sephiroth. The Voices rose in intensity slightly, but it was nothing like before. Sephiroth quirked an eyebrow at him while wearing a rather condescending expression. Genesis, however, looked more curious, although he hid it well. Harry might not have noticed had he not seen the same look on Snape's face several times.

Now that Harry could think clearly, his mind was whirring. Why had the silver haired man set the Voices off like that? And how the hell could he be connected to the Calamity? Dread began to settle in the pit of Harry's stomach, cold and hard. There was no way that the Calamity had been unsealed. It just _could not_ happen. Not after everything they had gone through, everything they had sacrificed.

Caught up in his thoughts as he was, Harry never noticed the glance exchanged between Tseng and Sephiroth.

* * *

Sleek and smooth and deadly. That was what Reno loved about his nightstick. It was so unassuming, just a simple black rod, yet with the right skill behind the hand wielding it, it could kill with a single brush. It reminded him of himself, though he would never say so aloud.

Reno knew how others perceived him. He was loud and brash and rough. He loved getting in other people's faces, loved taunting them and then brutally smacking them down. And above all, he loved the looks on their faces when they suddenly realized that he wasn't the fool that he played.

"Loud like a grenade," Reno mused aloud as he twirled his nightstick around. "A frag grenade? Hmm, what about a bomb? Ooh, a flash bomb! ...Nah, not dangerous enough. A cannon?"

The door across from him clicked open, admitting Tseng and Harry. Reno slipped off the desk he'd been sitting on and crossed his arms before him, tapping his nightstick against his shoulder.

"Oi, what took you so damn long?" he complained. "Those contracts ain't _that_ long, yo."

"Just get his things and take him to his assigned room," Tseng said curtly. "We will have everything else ready for you tomorrow, Harry. Report to my office at 0800."

Something was distracting Tseng, Reno noticed with a frown. Surely, nothing had happened between the time he'd last seen them and now. But then, it wouldn't be too surprising if something had. Harry was bad news, he just _knew_ it. And his instincts were never wrong. Perhaps Tseng was starting to see that he was right—like always.

Turning sharply, Tseng swept out of the room and closed the door behind him. "What the hell?" Reno wondered aloud. Harry snorted lightly, though for what reason he could only begin to guess. "Whatever. Here's your stuff. Not much though. You travel light or somethin', yo?"

Harry stayed silent as he took the box that Reno offered him. He looked troubled. Not too surprising; joining the Turks wasn't something one did lightly. More than likely, he was starting to realize what he'd gotten himself into. Reno suppressed the urge to grin; the damn spy would know soon enough that he was no match for Shinra.

"What'cha got a stick for, yo?" Reno asked curiously as Harry withdrew it from the box. He'd ignored everything else and gone straight for it. Some sort of a lucky charm, perhaps? Or maybe it was a symbol for other spies in Shinra. Reno's eyes narrowed as he considered taking it away from Harry. Maybe he could slip into his room that night.

To Reno's great annoyance, Harry ignored his question. He was looking over the polished stick as though searching for any scratches or nicks. The man was paranoid, Reno thought.

"But to leave or not," Harry suddenly muttered. "If there's a possibility that the Calamity is awake..." His frown deepened to scowl and he looked ready to hit something.

"The what now?" Reno said with a raised eyebrow. Why the hell was he talking about leaving? Unless Tseng had discovered that he was a spy...Reno gripped his nightstick tighter and let his arms fall to his sides, ready incapacitate Harry as a moment's notice if need be.

Harry looked up at Reno and studied him for a moment. The seriousness of his expression suddenly struck the redhead. He looked as though the entire world was resting on his shoulders. Or at least his own life. What exactly was going on?

A moment later Harry seemed to come to a decision. "It's Reno, right?" he asked.

"Yeah?"

"Can you promise that nothing we say will go beyond this room?"

"Yeah, sure, whatever."

"Say it," Harry said seriously. "Swear it. Swear that you won't repeat anything at all."

He was insane, Reno thought. But he decided to humor him, if only to find out what was going on in that head of his. "Fine," he replied with a laugh. "I swear that I won't repeat in any way, shape, or form what is said in this room." Abruptly the tip of the stick in Harry's hand began to glow, then flashed. Reno yelped in surprise as a light shock, akin to what one would receive from static electricity, suddenly ran through his body. "What the fu—"

Harry chuckled darkly. "I'm glad I learned that one a few years ago," he said. "It's one of the few oaths that requires only one wand to perform. All I needed was your spoken promise."

"What're you talkin' about, yo? What the fuck was that light? Who the hell _are_ you?" His nightstick was already raised and activated.

Not looking intimidated in the slightest, Harry didn't even bother to reply. He raised that stick again and made a strange motion with it before saying something that Reno couldn't understand. Immediately Reno felt himself become paralyzed from the neck down, much to his horror. Panic began to set in, but years of experience allowed Reno to push it down in favor of analyzing the situation.

Clearly, there was more to Harry than met the eye. But he'd known that already; he'd felt it in his gut since long before Tseng decided to make the young man a Turk. What he needed to know now was how much of a threat he was to Shinra. Was he acting on his own or on the behalf of the interests of a group? His mind returned to his Wutai theory from earlier, which seemed all the more probable now.

"Do you know anything about the Calamity?" Harry asked seriously.

"What? No! What the fuck is going on?" Reno's mind was racing. He'd seen the name "Calamity" before, in one of Hojo's reports. But what could Harry want with it? Was he looking to steal research?

Or maybe, Reno suddenly realized, this was connected to mako. Harry could be part of an anti-Shinra group—possibly AVALANCHE, although they'd been pretty quiet recently. He could be looking for a way to bring Shinra down from the inside, for a particular piece of information, for—

And yet there was that thin stick of wood held steady in Harry's hand. The magic that is created—that Harry created—shouldn't be possible. He'd never seen anything like it before, never even heard of anything like it. It simply wasn't possible! Not to mention that it used no mako, the source of magic, and seemed to defy the laws of physics.

"Who are you?" Reno said softly. His eyes studied Harry's expression as though he could read the answer there.

And he could. Years of experience with body language allowed Reno to catch the fleeting look of weary amusement that crossed Harry's face, as though the question had been a private joke. Now more than ever Reno noticed how out of place Harry's presence felt. From the moment he'd first set eyes on him, Reno's instincts had said there was something off about Harry, and this whole situation was certainly off.

"Who are you?" he repeated.

This time Harry laughed lightly. "I am just a man passing by. I have no interest in joining Shinra, actually. I was planning on leaving as soon as I got my wand, but now...Well now things have changed." As he spoke, he absently twirled the stick with an ease that spoke of years of use.

There was no way that they wouldn't have heard of Harry before, Reno realized suddenly. Someone with abilities like his... He would have been flaunted as a weapon, elevated as a warrior, _noticed_ in some way or another. Unless of course he'd been hiding. But if he had then there would be no reason for him to come to Shinra. No reason for him to help some anti-Shinra group, who would be far more likely to shove Harry's abilities in Shinra's face than keep him some secret. After all, while his power _was_ useful, it would have been of far more use as propaganda than an actual tool.

"The Calamity," Reno said suddenly. "What is it? Why're ya lookin' for it?" Internally he chided himself for being sidetracked by his musings. Direct questions were always best—even if he did usually cover them in layers of misdirection. But here that wouldn't work; he was far from having the upper hand.

At first, Harry didn't reply. He stared off into space, either contemplating the question or ignoring Reno all together. "It's dangerous," he said finally. His voice was so soft that Reno almost didn't catch it at first. Harry cleared his throat then continued more strongly. "It's something very, very dangerous. A plague upon the earth. Or Gaia, as you call it."

Reno noted Harry's strange words even as the man's next sentence captured his attention.

"It is also something that I will stop at nothing to destroy." Harry locked gazes with Reno again, his expression hard as stone. "I mean no harm to Shinra. I have no interest in the corporation, or in this city for that matter. But if Shinra harbors the Calamity, if they dare to try to hide, I swear that I will not hesitate to burn this city to the ground if I must."

The look of pure, unhesitating resolve in Harry's eyes sent shivers down Reno's spine. He knew instantly that the other man was entirely serious and would not hesitate to follow through with his threat. Or at least he believed that he would; Reno had seen enough to know that men's hearts wavered when faced with an actual deed and not just words.

Harry sighed and looked away again, some of his fervor fading. "I...have no choice," he mumbled. "I must stay, at least for now. Shinra holds the only clue I have about the possible return of the Calamity. I will stay here as a Turk, at least for now. At least until I can find more information. And you..." He looked up one last time and squared his shoulders. "You, Reno, are going to help me."

That caught Reno off guard. "What?" he scoffed. "You're holdin' me hostage for fuck's sake! Why would I ever help you, yo?"

"Because I know your type. When you get curious about something, it eats away at you, digging into your mind, into your every thought, until you'll stop at nothing to find out. And you're curious now about who I am. You understand, at least on some level, that harming your corporation is not my intent. And that gives you some leeway to explore your curiosity. And since you are now unable to tell anyone that I am something more than I appear—fantastic clause by the way, the whole 'in any way, shape, or form' bit—the only way you can find out who and what I am is by helping me."

Reno studied Harry silently for a moment. "Ya know my type?" he repeated finally.

"Yes." Harry grinned, openly and unhesitatingly. "Because I'm the exact same."

* * *

A/N: Your first thought upon reading this might be that it doesn't make sense for Tseng to make Harry a Turk. However, as was hinted at in this chapter, his motives are quite different from anything that has been said. Reno too has his own motives and won't be going along quietly with Harry's wishes. Or at all, for that matter.

And yes, Genesis will play a large part in this story. Frankly, I like his character better than both Sephiroth and Angeal, if only because he has an interesting psyche. Plus the choices he makes in Crisis Core basically set off what happens in the rest of the FFVII series, so he's a big player story-wise, even if he doesn't realize it.

Thanks for all your reviews!

—S.R.


	4. Chapter 3: Searching Blind

Title: Anthem of the Angels  
Author: Shadow Rebirth  
Rating: T/PG-13  
Warnings: Death, language, spoilers  
Chapter WC: 5,069  
Story WC: 17,786  
First Written: February 13, 2010  
Last Edited: June 28, 2010  
Posted: June 28, 2010  
Summary: Time has no meaning, not to the Planet. Time is a human conception, a human worry. But time is all Harry has left—and something he's running out of. /_The Calamity has returned, they whisper. The Calamity will Break again./_ AU, no pairings.

* * *

Anthem of the Angels

Chapter 3_  
Searching Blind_

* * *

There was not much sun in Midgar.

That was one of the first lessons Harry learned. His room had an entire wall made up of floor to ceiling window panels. It gave him a fantastic view of the city and even a glimpse at the surrounding landscape. Anywhere else, the view offered would have been beautiful. In Midgar, it did little but remind him of just how different the city was from what he had known; Harry was used to lush trees, clear water, and sunny afternoons. Here it did not matter if he kept his curtains drawn all day because the lighting would be the same either way.

That being said, the suite itself was not bad. It was like a mini apartment, consisting of a joined living room and kitchen, a bedroom, and a bathroom. According to Reno, such suites were given to all Turks and military officials. The Shinra tower also acted as barracks and training grounds for the military, so even cadets roomed there, albeit in very different accommodations. Reno complained that the rooms were too small, but Harry did not mind. It was the first time he had had a "home" of his own, regardless of how far the definition of home had to be stretched to fit.

Reno really was a good source of information. Harry did not trust him in the slightest and knew that the redhead would betray him the moment he let up an inch, but that did not stop him from using him in the meantime. If worst came to worst, Harry could always Apparate out of Midgar and use a glamour to hide his appearance, so he really wasn't too concerned with getting caught. He had more important issues to focus on than the affairs of regular people.

Not long after tricking Reno into giving an oath of silence, Harry had interrogated Reno on everything related to Sephiroth. Unfortunately, Reno had not known much beyond what was apparently public knowledge and none of it was useful. Or at least, Harry could not see a connection to the Calamity in any of it. Reno had told him that there would be more information in Sephiroth's personal file, but said file was hidden under electronic lock and key in the Shinra database.

For the first time, Harry cursed his lack of computer knowledge. It did not help that Reno had point blank refused to hack into the system, regardless of the emotional blackmail Harry had pulled over him. That left Harry with few to no options, most of which involved hunting Sephiroth down and personally interrogating him.

Taking a deep breath, Harry forced himself to calm down and think rationally. He had the upper hand in this situation, despite his lack of knowledge. He could leave Shinra whenever he wanted and use spells whenever need be, since no one other than Reno was aware of his abilities. Of course, he would probably _have_ to leave eventually, once Reno figured out a way around his oath and ratted Harry out. But that was a problem for the future, not the present.

For now, he had to figure out some way to get Sephiroth's file. He had already considered using Imperius on Reno or even Sephiroth himself, but he knew he could only use it on one person at a time and he still had the curse on Oliver. If he tried to use Imperius Curse now, his hold over the scientist would break and the older man would instantly raise alarm and bring attention onto Harry, forcing him to flee and making the entire situation a moot point.

"I need to find him," Harry muttered to himself. Find him and obliviate him, to be precise. Only then could he Imperio Reno and get the information he needed.

Of course, Harry could hardly just waltz into the science department and start casting spells. Not with all the video cameras that blanketed the rooms. He was sure there were several in his suite, although he had no idea where they were. No, he was going to have to be more subtle in his approach. Subtlety may never have ever been his strong point, but he was more than willing to try when the situation called for it.

A knock on the front door effectively broke Harry from his musing. He found Rude waiting on the other side, looking stoic as usual. Harry repressed the annoyance and anger that rose in him at the sight of the man, in favor of giving him a polite nod.

"Tseng wants me?"

The Voices burbled up for a moment with their usual nonsense—_Waterseaprotectionhatred_—before fading once more.

"Yes," Rude replied with a nod of his own. He offered no further explanation, simply turned and began to walk down the hall. Harry sighed, but quickly closed the door behind himself and followed. Like Rude, he was also wearing a black suit. The company gave him an entire closest of them, actually, and since all the Turks he had seen so far wore suits, he assumed they expected him to as well. Joy.

Tseng was sitting in his office waiting for them when they arrived. It seemed like a standard Muggle office to Harry, if one ignored the gun rack on one wall and the bulletproof vest hung up next to a coat. But overall Harry liked the office, truth be told. It was spacious, but with just enough furniture to give him both ample cover and firing room if a fight ensued.

"Welcome, Harry," Tseng said. "Please have a seat."

"You beckoned?"

Tseng ignored the comment. "Before you can actually begin to work, we need to find out exactly what you can do."

Harry's eyes narrowed. "And how do you plan on going about that?"

"A simple exercise." He stood smoothly and made his way around his desk. "If you'll accompany me to one of the holographic rooms, I'll explain."

Once again, Harry had to struggle not to be surprised. In his time holograms had been little more than science fiction, even if they were plausible. But he supposed he should be too shocked of their existence, considering what technology he had seen thus far.

Tseng brought Harry down to a large room made entirely of metal, with what looked like circuits built into the walls themselves. The door to the room read _Training Room F49_. F49 for the floor number, Harry assumed.

"This is one of our holographic training rooms," Tseng explained. "We'll use this to test your skills in real-world scenarios."

The tall man then stepped up to the nearby wall and entered something into the keypad there. With a soft hiss of air, a section of the wall panel slid away to reveal a large selection of weapons mounted in the compartment.

"Please select the weapon you'd like to use."

Harry hesitantly stepped up to the wall. There was everything from swords to rifles to tasers there. But... He did not know how to use any weapons and knew that he would not be able to pass himself off as having any skills whatsoever. So instead of choosing something, he turned to Tseng.

"I can only use magic," Harry admitted. "I've never been trained in the use of weaponry."

Tseng frowned and gave him an odd look. "Then select a materia instead."

Right, of course, Harry thought, belatedly noticing the faintly glowing stones mounted below a broadsword. Materia. The force behind magic in this time. He reached out and picked up green one, trying to remember which ones Oliver had said were the offensive ones. As soon as his skin came in contact with the stone, the Voices rose up again. He could literally feel their energy—lifestream, was it?—pulsing in the stone. He struggled not to gasp and drop the stone from the unexpected reaction. He had never felt such a concentration of raw power before. It was like holding raw magic in his hand, unfocused, unbound, and so _warm_.

Honestly, it scared him. He had no idea what it would do, especially not with an actual wizard like him wielding it. He had a feeling that using materia was not such a good idea—at least not without testing it out privately first.

As Harry quickly cast around for something to stall with, he remembered a rather important issue that had been cast to the back of his mind while he struggled to come to terms with this new time period. "Glasses," he said, looking up at Tseng. At the man's blank stare, he continued, "I need glasses. I...lost mine, some time ago. I have made due for now, but if you are going to test me, it is only fair that I can fight at full capacity."

A speculative look came onto Tseng's face. "Fair enough," he agreed. "There's an optometrist two floors down. He can test your eyes and get you a new pair of glasses within an hour. Meet me back here once you are finished." He pulled from his pocket a slim object vaguely resembling a phone and pressed a button on it. The apparent phone speed dialed a number even as Tseng lifted it to his ear. "Rude, please meet Harry at the F49 elevator and take him down to Dr. Rhond's office."

Without waiting for a reply, Tseng had already turned off the phone and turned his back and Harry. The dark haired man stared at him awkwardly for a moment. While he _did_ need glasses, this still did not solve his materia problem. He headed towards the doors to the holographic training room—still curious about the holographic part, admittedly, but more than willing to wait—and exited into the hall. He found Rude already waiting for him in front of the elevator. The slightly older man was standing stock-still with his hands folded before him. As always, his dark sunglasses shielded any expression that Harry might have gleaned from his face.

They were both silent as they stepped into the elevator and Rude pressed the glowing number _43_. Harry stared outside the glass elevator, marveling at the height. It made his heart ache for a moment as he wished he still had his Firebolt. How long had it been since he had last flown? Four years? Five? And that was just relative time.

A buzzing from Rude's direction startled Harry from his musing. He stared, puzzled, as Rude pulled a cell phone from his pocket and answered, wondering why it hadn't rang. Was it a new sort of ringtone in this era? Buzzing instead of ringing. He shook his head, knowing he would have to adjust to many different technological and social changes.

"Mrs. Tesra?" Rude questioned quietly. Harry averted his gaze back out the glass, so as not to appear to be eavesdropping, but in the reflection, he could see Rude frowning. "...I see. And she's fine? Thank you for letting me know. I'll be there within the hour."

He ended the call and then returned to his previous stiff position, as though the interruption had never occurred. Silence once again pervaded, although now Harry fidgeted, containing his curiosity. It was none of his business and had no relation to what he was after anyway. The elevator dinged just seconds later and the metal doors smoothly slid aside, granting them access to a long hallway lined with doors. There were a few people walking along, but they appeared to be workers. Certainly not military personnel like those that he had seen so far.

The optometrist's office was larger than he expected. It probably served the entirely building. Did that mean there was a doctor here too? Or even an entire hospital wing?

There were a number of people already in the waiting room, but Rude bypassed them all with a single word to the receptionist and ushered Harry into the one of the back rooms. The process passed by quickly enough, although Harry found himself surprised by equipment he had never seen before. In the end, the eye doctor gave him a pair of slim black glasses that were much more rectangular than his old ones. He marveled at the improvement to his sight; he had lost his old glasses only a few months after the Breaking, more than a year ago for him.

"Your friend already left," the bright receptionist told him. Remembering the call Rude had received, Harry nodded and left on his own. It bothered him a little though; he had only really spoken to Rude once, but he did not come across as the type to up and leave without a word. He seemed too duty bound.

Shrugging the incident off, Harry made his way back to the training room on his own. He had spent the time at the optometrist's considering his options for using materia. In the end, he decided that he would use his wand instead. Even though there was a good chance Tseng would catch him, it was overall safer than using a materia without having any idea what the outcome would be—or even how to use one, for that matter. Fortunately, the black suit he was wearing had long sleeves that were perfect for hiding his wand in. It was one of the only good points to the stiff, uncomfortable article of clothing. Harry was missing his robes already.

Tseng was not in the training room when Harry returned. Rather, he stepped in after him, though how he knew Harry was back, Harry could not tell. Video cameras? He had not seen any in the halls, but then, he had not seen any on that Shinra ship either. They might look completely different in this time than they had in his, for all he knew.

"I assume you are ready now?" Tseng asked with a pointed look. He held his hands formally behind his back and he looked every part the proper politician, but somehow he felt dangerous to Harry; like a viper just waiting to strike. He reminded himself that he had not seen Tseng fight yet, and since he was a Turk there was a good chance he was more than just a desk jockey.

Instead of replying, Harry nodded firmly. He accepted the bracer that Tseng handed him and fit the materia into it. These materia seemed to need metal to channel the magic, much like how he used a wand. He was curious as to how that worked, but now was hardly the time. As he clipped the armed bracer into place, Harry simultaneously adjusted his wand so that the tip was beneath his palm, just out of view.

Tseng strode over to the console again, brought up a screen and began selecting something. Harry did not have the faintest idea what he was doing, having never actually used a computer before. For a brief moment, a hum rose up around the room, emanating from the walls themselves. The hair on the back of Harry's neck stood on end, then without warning the world around him flickered and changed.

Harry was standing on a rocky road sparsely decorated by trees that stretched out over a hill. He turned on his heel and saw that it continued similarly in the other direction, with mountains rising up in the distance. The sun overhead beamed down on him, warm and so _real_. Harry crouched down and brushed his hand against the dirt, both surprised and yet not to find that it felt just as authentic. Dust clung to his fingers and he wound up having to brush it off on his pants.

Suddenly a loud screeching noise erupted behind him. Harry spun back around and found himself staring up in shock at what could only be a robot. Giant and made entirely of metal, it stood on two massive triangular feet that were attached to its body by deceptively thin rods. Its head/torso almost looked like the front of a car, with a grill covering its front. What Harry noticed the most however were the two large guns mounted on its arms. The robot moved again, emitting the screeching noise, and then an ominous clicking noise rang out.

"Shit."

Harry threw himself to side, rolling out of the way of the spray of bullets that pierced the ground he had been standing on. Even as he staggered to his feet, he stared in shock, wondering if this whole thing was some sort of a trap. They had claimed to make him a Turk, then turned on him and tried to kill him. It was all part of some elaborate ruse!

Or a test, he thought as he dodged again, this time circling around the robot—it was unwieldy and slow to turn, thank Merlin. They could be testing his loyalties. Or his abilities, as they had said. He reminded himself that he knew nothing of world; this could very easily be how they tested new recruits, to see if they could survive.

As Harry lifted his arm, he hesitated for a brief second, rebelling against his desire to use a more useful spell to destroy the robot. He could only "use" a materia, which greatly limited his options. But if he could melt the joints together... Raising his arm higher, he spread out his palm and muttered the words for one of the few fire spells that he knew. Flames erupted in the space before him, licking at the smooth metal of the robot's exterior. It screeched again—Harry shuddered; it sounded far too like a living creature for his comfort—and then tried to cock its arms at him.

Moving lightly on his feet, Harry ducked beneath one of the guns and aimed a spray of fire at the exposed wiring between its grate and its torso. He dodged out of the robot's range as it shuddered and several screws popped, but evidently was not fast enough, as a stray piece of metal scraped against his arm. He ignored the pain but backpedaled farther; shrapnel could be just as dangerous as bullets.

The world flickered. Harry froze for a brief second, surprised. The robot screeched, drawing his attention back to it. It was jerking now and steam was pouring from its back. Harry was surprised it had lasted so long against direct heat, but then figured that it had been built to withstand such temperatures. Again, the world flickered. The time lasted a moment longer and Harry caught a glimpse of metal walls.

It was a hologram, Harry reminded himself. Just an illusion. The most damn realistic illusion he had ever seen, magic or otherwise, but an illusion nonetheless. Harry stole forwards towards the robot again, determined to finish it off. If this was a test, then he would damn well show them that he could fight when he needed to, restricted to fire spells or not.

Before Harry could even reach the robot, however, the holograms around him shuddered once more, before collapsing completely. The dark haired man found himself staring in surprise, still standing in a tense position in the middle of the training room. Slowly, he turned around to face Tseng.

"That was certainly...realistic."

Tseng wore an oddly pensive expression. "Yes, well, Shinra is known for having the most advanced technology on the Planet," he replied. "You certainly are capable with magic; it takes a certain type to learn how to use monsters' weaknesses against them, rather than using brute force."

"Monsters..." Harry frowned. He absently brushed away some of the blood trickling down his arm from where he had been scratched, only to realize that there was nothing but unscathed skin there. Realistic indeed. "And that robot I fought?"

"A Sweeper. They were initially constructed for monster defense down in the slums, but there are a number of rogues. Usually in testing we'd start you off against some Red Saucers, but they're more suited as projectile weapon targets." Tseng glanced at his wrist briefly. "We'll speak more on that later; I have a meeting to attend. Please return to my office at 1600. In the mean time, some of your fellow Turks will fill you in on the basics."

Harry hid his relief as he unsocketed the materia on his wrist. He had been sure that he would be caught using his wand, but it seemed that Lady Luck was still on his side, even here. He passed the green materia to Tseng and then started to remove the bracer as well when Tseng stopped him with a shake of his head.

"Keep that," the Wutanese man told him. "You will need it. We will outfit you with more materia later."

Nodding his understanding, Harry pulled his sleeve back down. Everything was proceeding well, he thought as he hid a smile. He had expected to have more difficulty fitting in with such a high-tech corporation. It would almost be more suspicious, except that he had not given them any reason to be suspicious of him, beyond the boat incident. And since Tseng had not discovered his wand during this little session, he should have little trouble in the future.

With a second polite nod, Harry took his leave of the training room. His short, brisk steps took him out of earshot in a matter of moments. Tseng remained behind, silently staring down at the materia Harry had used.

"Oi, Boss!" Reno called as he sauntered into the room. "Are ya done with Harry, yo? I need to talk to ya."

Tseng fingered the cold materia in his hand for a minute before turning and tossing it to Reno. Ignoring the redhead's exclamation of surprise, he asked, "Can you tell me what that is?"

Reno shot him a strange look, before glancing down at the crystal. "Ehh, a thunder materia? Kinda used-lookin' and worn, but other than that it ain't nothin' special, yo"

What could potentially be a smile twitched on Tseng's lips. "Is that so?" he murmured. Reno stared, wondering what he was missing, but Tseng's humor was gone as quickly as it had come. "You mentioned you had something to tell me?"

Glancing at the materia again, Reno threw it up, and then caught it. "It ain't important," he replied after a moment of silence. "It can wait 'til I've finished my paperwork; you've been naggin' me 'bout that, yeah?"

* * *

Harry was convinced that computers were the bane of all evil, Voldemort and the Calamity included. He had never actually used one before. Sure, Dudley had one at one point, but Harry had never touched it and even if he had, it had looked nothing like the ones Shinra had. These were slim and dark, with wide screens and small keyboards. It was the systems themselves that Harry did not like. The Turk that Harry was working with was patient, understanding that not everyone used computers—apparently, there were a number of small towns that barely had electricity, let alone advanced technology—but sometimes Harry would say something that would make the woman stare at him. He would look away uneasily, but he could not do anything about such slipups and sometimes he wondered just how thin his excuses were.

"Are things proceeding smoothly?" Rude asked.

Harry glanced over his shoulder, surprised to find Rude watching as the other Turk attempted to teach him. He had not heard the older man approach.

The first Turk grimaced. "Not quite. Harry's talents clearly lie in...other directions. Directions not including technology."

Rude hummed, but otherwise made no response. "Tseng had requested his presence," he said instead. "You may return to your duties. Harry, please come with me."

If Tseng had just wanted to talk to him, that would have been fine. Harry did not mind in the slightest, regardless of the innate dislike he felt for Tseng. But talking was one thing. Being told he was required to learn how to wield Muggle weapons was another matter entirely, and something Harry was staunchly against even hearing. It was a good thing Rude had left directly after delivering him; he might have seen Harry's steadfast refusal—glare included, for once—as threatening.

"I will be fine with just magic," Harry said stiffly.

Tseng folded his hands before him on his desk. "Harry, as a Turk you are required to learn how to handle different types of weaponry," he said. "Magic is far more exhausting than any other weapon and will quickly tire you out in a real fight. You cannot rely solely on it, even if you choose to use it more than other weapons. You must at least _learn_. You never know what situation you may wind up in. What if you find yourself backed in a corner with no materia, hmm?"

Harry grimaced, unable to explain that he did not _need_ materia, and therefore would not be having that problem. Admittedly, he would be screwed if he ever lost his wand, but in a worst-case scenario, he could still Apparate away. Plus, he just did not _want_ to learn how to use any Muggle weapons. Magic had thousands of uses. Muggle weapons had one sole purpose: killing. Harry was not killer, regardless of the wars he had fought. Using something that only existed to harm others...The very thought was unimaginable.

Still regarding him impassively, Tseng did not move a muscle. He did not even blink, as far as Harry could tell. His mouth was relaxed—somewhere between a frown and a smile, but giving no hints to how he felt. He was always so guarded. It sent warning bells off in Harry's mind, ones that were growing more and more difficult to ignore.

Finally, Tseng smiled. Harry relaxed faintly, unaware up until that point that he had been so tense. "We will see," the Wutanese man said, confidence filling his voice. "In the mean time, you must at least get used to using summons. As they are an extension of magic, I am sure you have no problems with this."

Summons. Harry shifted uncomfortably, even as Tseng stood and led him from the room for the second time that day. One thing he knew nothing about, and wanted to know even less of. Regardless of the time that had passed, it reminded him too much of Voldemort's actions. Not to mention that he had not had the chance to learn to use materia yet... Harry may have been able to pass by using his wand in the last "test", but summons were an entirely different story, and something that he could not fake. He unobtrusively brushed his arm against his side, double-checking that his wand was still strapped tightly there. If he had to make a quick escape, he was prepared.

They returned to the holographic room from early that day. This time, however, Reno was already there. The redhead was crouched over a box of red materia, shifting through them. He glanced up at their entrance, grimacing slightly.

"Yo Boss!" he greeted with what was obviously faux enthusiasm. Tseng raised one eyebrow and Reno rubbed the back of his neck while smiling sheepishly. "Uh, there was some kinda mix-up in the SOLDIER department. Somethin' to do with one of Hojo's freaky experiments..."

"And?"

"And the labels got all screwed up on the damn summons," Reno said grudgingly. "I was gonna fix 'em before returnin' 'em, but then ya asked for 'em and, well, not much I can do now, yo."

"Was it your fault?"

"...No?"

"Then have the SOLDIERs fix the issue. We do not have the time to fulfill such menial tasks."

"Eh? You mean go right now?"

Tseng may have twitched. It was hard to tell. "No," he said calmly—a little too calmly, considering his tense shoulders. "Now Harry will be learning how to use a summon. Or at least he would be, if I knew which one to give him. And no—" Tseng gave Reno a pointed look as the younger man opened his mouth. "—I will not give him a random one. You know as well as I that the more powerful a summon is, the harder it is to control. Giving a strong summon to someone new to summoning could very well be suicide, given the right conditions."

"Wouldn' that be murder?" Reno quipped with a grin. Tseng's expression did not waver and eventually Reno looked away with a grumble. "Fine, fine. I'll find weaker one."

Reno snatched a stone from the top of the pile and fit it into a slot on the bangle on his wrist. Unlike the bronze one that Tseng had given Harry, his was pure black. Harry would have said it was obsidian, except that obsidian was a stone and the bangle was clearly made from metal. Once the summon materia was firmly in place, Reno raised his hand with his palm splayed open to the center of the room. Instantly the materia began to glow and energy poured forth, twining around his arm—

_Nonononono! _The Voices screamed. _Wrongbadunwelcomeunwanted! WrongwickedparasiteWRONG__! _Harry flinched as they rose up, having gotten used to their background volume. Their abrupt harshness bit into his consciousness, burdening him as though they possessed a physical weight. Harry felt all of his muscles contracting in response, tightening like a bow waiting to be released. But there was no release, no reprieve. There was only more mounting tension, pulling at his very heart and threatening to break him as the Voices screamed louder and louder and—

The energy in Reno's hand exploded outward, filling the room with a bright flash that was almost immediately taken over by an explosion of fire that swept across the room, changing Harry's vision just as surely as the holograms had early. He stumbled back as the ground beneath his feet shifted to stone and magma spewed forth below, radiating a heat that surely could not have been simulated. Before Harry could even regain his footing, the ground in the middle of the room—or what had once been a room—buckled then erupted outward as muscled, flaming beast with massive curved horns leapt out, showering them all with burning embers crumbling rocks.

Harry felt all the blood drain from his face. Images flickered before his mind's eye, of London burning, streets cracking, and Neville screaming—a scream that was matched perfectly by the Voices.

"_Fuck_—!"

* * *

A/N: First and foremost, yes, Harry's magic works around technology. Keep in mind that everything in FFVII is run on mako, not electricity. Secondly, any monsters mentioned in this story are canon and pictures can usually be found through a simple Google search. You can also find a video of the Ifrit summoning by searching for "Ifrit Summon FFVII Crisis Core" on youtube (as Crisis Core has much better graphics than the original FFVII game).

A reviewer mentioned that there was a sentence in an earlier chapter wherein a word was missing. This was actually one of the Voice's ramblings, which, for whatever reason, FF decides to delete when I upload a chapter. I fill all of these errors in manually, but occasionally one or two might get missed. As such, if you ever noticed a spot where something doesn't look quite right, please point it out to me!

And finally, I now have a picture of what Harry looks like in his Turk uniform. You can find a link to it on my profile, under Pictures.

Thanks for all your reviews!

—S.R.


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